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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287931">38 Pictures (and a broken heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orison/pseuds/Orison'>Orison</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawaii Five-0 (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Coda, Friendship, Gen, and they care about each other so much, because I love these moments between them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orison/pseuds/Orison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5x19 coda – Steve tells Danny about the Eran Dobrian’s case</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>38 Pictures (and a broken heart)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Seems like my latest trend is finding episodes Danny wasn’t in and giving him a few scenes. Plus, the final scene of this one has always haunted me. Speaking of, the stack of photographs Steve looked at at the end was big, but it was unclear if each picture represented a kid (if so, it’s A LOT of kids for one neighborhood, one would guess 5-0 or even the FBI would’ve been involved in the search for them) or if there were more pictures of the same kids. I left it vague, but titled the story after it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><i>‘You were unsure which pain is worse: </i><br/><i>the shock of what happened</i><br/><i>or the ache for what never will. </i>’<br/>— Unknown<div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div><i>‘Still at work?’ </i><p>
  <i> ‘No’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i> ‘See you at Rumfire?’ </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i> ‘Rain check. Sorry’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i> ‘You ok?’ </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i> ‘No’</i>
</p>
<p>It took Danny approximately three seconds to dial Steve’s number after reading his last text. </p>
<p>He’d had a bad feeling all day, and his ‘I always gravitate to the worst possible outcome’ attitude seemed to have once again proven him right.</p>
<p>Grace had caught a stomach bug at school the day before, so he’d skipped work to take care of her. Surprisingly, Rachel had agreed without making any fuss, letting him into her home and disappearing with little Charlie for the whole day. Albeit weird, Danny had filed that under ‘victory’, happy to spend some time with her. </p>
<p>Should’ve remembered that every time he left Steve alone for some reason, something terrible happened. </p>
<p>He had checked with him twice during the day, once to inform him of his plan and then a few hours later while Grace was down for a nap. Steve had apparently caught a case while on a routine barber appointment. Go figure. He didn’t call him a danger magnet for nothing. </p>
<p>The first time, Steve had barely escaped a siege at Odell’s shop. Over the phone, his breath had come in short, harsh pants as he talked, the words tense and strained. He had told him he was on his way to arrest a dangerous Armenian boss, shrugging off Danny’s concern about backup with the reassurance that he had everything under control. </p>
<p>The second time, his voice was cold and flat, the way he spoke whenever he struggled to control his emotions, and all that Danny had been able to gather was that the case turned out to be not what it looked like. </p>
<p>Then Grace had thrown up, and the rest of the day had been a blur of cleaning puke and changing sheets and making sure his little girl was alright. The rest had faded in the background until Rachel had come home and his conscious mind had remembered that the team was supposed to meet up for drinks.</p>
<p>Now it was almost 08:00 in the evening, and his need for beer and adult company had just taken a backseat to his partner’s well-being.</p>
<p>Danny couldn’t help it, especially when Steve openly admitted that there was something wrong.</p>
<p>Phone pressed to his ear, he listened to it ring six times before it was picked up.</p>
<p>“Where are you?” he immediately asked, the ‘where’ more important than the ‘what’ or ‘why’. Those questions could wait till later.</p>
<p>“I want to be alone, Danny…”</p>
<p>His anxiety level lowered a bit at the realization that his friend didn’t seem to be in immediate danger. “Steve. Tell me where you are,” he repeated in a worried-with-a-hint-of-annoyance, just-do-what-I-say tone that made it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.</p>
<p>There was a moment of hesitation and a noise that sounded like a car door being shut. “I was heading home,” Steve eventually replied. “and.... I stopped to get something. I’m in the parking lot.”</p>
<p>It didn’t really narrow down a location, so Danny nudged him again. </p>
<p>“How far are you from the house?”</p>
<p>“About ten minutes.”</p>
<p>It took him an unusually long time to form a response. Danny didn’t like it, but trusted that his partner would mention it if he was somehow impaired.</p>
<p>“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Danny started to lower the phone, ready to end the call, grab his keys and rush to the house when another thought suddenly crossed his mind. He put the device back to his ear, hoping his friend was still on the line. “Steve?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“You okay to drive?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>It didn’t sound convincing, and he quickened his pace out the door.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Steve wasn’t sure driving was a good idea, but he had promised Danny to meet him at the house and wasn’t about to go back on his word, even if he didn’t feel like having company for the night.<p>All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget that the day ever happened.</p>
<p>Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision to the point where he could no longer see clearly. He eased his foot off the gas pedal as they spilled, grateful for the nonexistent traffic in the area, and swiped them away with the back of his hand. </p>
<p>Every soldier, every law enforcement officer had at least a couple of cases in their career that they wished to eradicate from their mind. So did Steve. Memories from his combat days, flashbacks of friends being killed and parents being murdered that had kept him awake for years.</p>
<p>Despite all that, what he had seen in Garig Dobrian’s basement was going to haunt him forever. </p>
<p>Gripping the steering wheel as if it was Eran’s neck and he was squeezing the life out of him, he let out a pained moan and carefully drove the rest of the way home.</p>
<p>When he pulled into the driveway, the Camaro was already there. </p>
<p>He parked alongside it and killed the engine, but made no attempt to get out. </p>
<p>Nausea swirled in his empty stomach. After a very early breakfast so he could go to the barbershop, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. </p>
<p>Pressing the back of his head against the headrest, he took in a long breath. </p>
<p>He could still smell the foul odor of that dark, damp room. It had assaulted his senses as soon as he’d opened the door, a tangible reminder of the terrible things that had happened between those walls. Steve knew it wasn’t real, yet it added to his discomfort so he closed his eyes and started counting his breaths.</p>
<p>There was no button to press, no code to punch in to make those sharp, painful memories go away. He was going to have to stack them on top of the others and carry their burden until it broke his back.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Danny was nervously tapping his fingers against his thigh when he spotted the Silverado slowly making its way along the driveway.<p>He exhaled, relieved that Steve had made it home. </p>
<p>Pacing himself so that he wouldn’t betray his concern, he took his time turning the ignition off and getting out of his car, keeping an eye on the other vehicle to track his partner’s movements. He leaned against the hood, ankles crossed, willing to give him time if he needed it.</p>
<p>Even in the dark, he could see the stiff posture and the clenched jaw. </p>
<p>Steve was trying to calm himself down.</p>
<p>When a few moments passed and nothing happened, Danny cautiously approached the truck. Unsure of what he would find and what state his partner was in, he gently pulled the passenger door open and peered inside. The roof light turned on, allowing him a glance at his friend’s face.</p>
<p>Steve looked like he’d been crying, which was upsetting in itself because Steve <i>never</i> cried. The only time Danny had seen him shaken enough to shed tears was after his final run-in with Wo Fat, when the drugs coursing through his system had made him forget all about his father’s death.</p>
<p>There was a bottle of whiskey sitting in the otherwise empty seat, half visible inside a brown paper bag. </p>
<p>Danny swallowed hard. </p>
<p>“You drunk?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “Didn’t touch it.” He eased a hand from the steering wheel and perched it by the window, leaning into it. “I wanted to. I wanted so badly to forget...”</p>
<p>Danny nodded. He had never seen him plastered, and it was something he was willing to go his whole life without seeing. </p>
<p>“You getting out or what?”, he asked, wondering if he should just climb in.</p>
<p> “Give me a minute.”</p>
<p>Nodding again, Danny instinctively reached for the bottle, deciding to take it with him. When his partner didn’t react, he took it as a sign of approval and left, clutching it in his right hand as he walked up to the house and sat on the steps by the front door.</p>
<p>A minute turned into ten, then Steve finally came out. Their shoulders brushed as he sat down next to him, and the physical contact felt so good he leaned sideways to search for more, relishing it after a long day. </p>
<p>An expert reader in McGarrett’s body language and unspoken needs, Danny shifted closer.</p>
<p>“What happened today? When I called, you said you were about to arrest some Armenian boss. What happened after that?”</p>
<p>Red-rimmed eyes stared back at him. They showed his soul, aged by years of suffering. “This kid came into the shop… Eran. He was bleeding from a GSW to the leg. Tricked us into believing they were after him.”</p>
<p>“Who was after him?”</p>
<p>“Armenian gang, he said,” Steve replied with disgust. It still weighted on him that he had failed to see the young man’s true colors. “Turned out his own father had sent them to kill him.”</p>
<p>Danny held out one hand in disbelief. “Whoa. His <i>father</i>?” </p>
<p>As a parent, the mere notion of a man ordering a hit on his flesh and blood was impossible to consider. Still, there had to be more to the story to explain his partner’s state.</p>
<p>Steve nodded, lips pursed in a tight, angry line.</p>
<p>“He called his son a monster. Said that he was touched by the devil.” </p>
<p>“Do I wanna know why?”</p>
<p><i>No, you don’t</i>, Steve thought to himself. He wanted to protect Danny, spare him the pain he knew his words would cause. It was an instinct, as essential as his need to breathe, ingrained into his being since the day they’d met. But there was only so much he could protect him from, and he’d rather be the one to tell him.</p>
<p>“Remember all those kids that have been missing from Palolo Valley?”</p>
<p>A shiver ran down Danny’s spine. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>He had read about it in the HPD daily briefs, discussed it with Duke during a break from another case. Eventually, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind so that he wouldn’t have to think about it. </p>
<p>Dread knotted his stomach, and he wished he could just up and leave and never hear the rest of it.</p>
<p>“It was him,” Steve said, validating his fears. “He tortured and killed them all.”</p>
<p>Danny flinched as if hit.</p>
<p>Hands clasped in front of him, he turned to look at his best friend, searching for something to say. There were only a handful of things that could upset Steve and this time, he couldn’t blame him one bit.</p>
<p>“I found pictures, Danny...” Steve’s voice broke as emotion crept in. “They were... there was this room in the basement where he kept trophies of them. Clothes, stuffed animals, a tiara... and pictures. 38 pictures...” </p>
<p>He stared ahead with a vacant, distant stare as he saw them all over again.</p>
<p>Boys and girls with sad, scared eyes who had been denied their future. </p>
<p>Innocent lives lost to the madness of a young man’s twisted soul. </p>
<p>He had cried quietly while looking at them, careful not to make any sound. Silent tears had rolled down his cheeks, making wet tracks down his face. Biting his lip tightly, he’d forced himself to keep looking so that those faces wouldn’t be forgotten. Refused to look away, even as his lips trembled and his shoulders heaved. </p>
<p>No noise had betrayed him, and no one had noticed.</p>
<p>“Son of a bitch…” </p>
<p>Danny eyed the bottle, longing for a sip or two of the amber liquid. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes shifted to the side, glazed with more tears. As much as he tried to hold it in, the pain was coming out again. “I know how you get... when it’s kids. Didn’t want to upset you.”</p>
<p>He was right. Danny had zero tolerance for whoever hurt kids. A few years back, he had sent to the hospital with multiple broken bones a man who had kidnapped two little girls just so he could collect welfare benefits from the state. That day, Danny had crossed the line, beating the guy within an inch of his life until he’d given up the location where he had buried one of them alive. </p>
<p>Steve had trusted him, acknowledging that it was something he needed and making sure he wouldn’t be held accountable for it. </p>
<p>“We protected him. Odell and I tore the store apart trying to fight these men and find a way out to take him to the hospital. So stupid…”</p>
<p>“Don’t beat yourself up over this, babe,” Danny said softly, nudging him with his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known.” </p>
<p>Steve shook his head in disagreement. </p>
<p>He should have known. </p>
<p>Should have recognized that something wasn’t right. </p>
<p>Should’ve insisted with HPD that they let Five-0 investigate those disappearances.</p>
<p>“He thanked me for killing him, you know? Eran’s father. For doing what he couldn’t do. The man is a mobster, and yet he had the decency to recognize that his son was evil and needed to be stopped.”</p>
<p>“What happened to him?”</p>
<p>“He’s dead,” Steve replied coldly. He had shot him four times. Center mass, to make sure this time he wouldn’t get up.</p>
<p>“Good riddance,” Danny shrugged, patting his friend on the thigh.</p>
<p>He had rarely seen Steve like that. Deflated. Loose shoulders, hands hanging limply from where they were resting on his knees, no attempt to conceal or even wipe away his tears. He wondered what it would take to mend a soul as damaged as his, and who else beside him would even dare to try. </p>
<p>Silence fell, quietly settling around them and remaining unbroken for a while.</p>
<p>Danny could literally see his friend’s wheels turning as he relived those moments and probably second-guessed himself. Steve was good at that, shouldering responsibilities he should not. He heard him clear his throat and saw him duck his head before turning it sideways to face him. “Do you think I’m gonna have kids of my own?” he asked a moment later.</p>
<p>The thought had sneaked up on him recently, surprising him with its intensity. With Catherine’s departure still weighing heavily in his mind and all the losses he’d suffered, wouldn’t it be good to have a legacy? Someone to love unconditionally and shelter from harm. Someone to help him heal in ways no one else would. </p>
<p>“I don’t see why not.”</p>
<p>Steve sighed as if he didn’t think he deserved this kind of happiness. “I’m 38 years old, Danny, and I’m not getting any younger...”</p>
<p>The discouragement in his voice broke Danny’s heart. “There’s still plenty of time,” he replied, hoping it would sink into his friend’s brain that he was worth it. “I think you’d be a great dad.”</p>
<p>Hope and surprise crossed Steve’s gaze as he met Danny’s eyes. “You do?”</p>
<p>“Of course I do. I know you, and I’ve seen you with Grace. Just give me a head’s up when you’re ready so I can move back to Jersey. Two McGarretts on the same island is a little too much to handle.” </p>
<p>A smile appeared on Steve’s lips. It was small and tight but it was progress, and Danny matched it with a grin of his own. </p>
<p>“Buddy, I cannot wait to see you with a kid. You’re gonna be great at it.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Danny. I’d really like that. To have that chance, you know? Maybe do what my dad didn’t.”</p>
<p>If there was one thing Danny was sure of, it was Steve not repeating John’s mistakes. Having learned that it was okay to express his feelings and what it felt to grow up without encouragement and support, there was no doubt he’d be a loving father and an excellent role model.</p>
<p>“You wanna practice, I can have Grace over for the weekend,” he teased. </p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>There it was again, the beaten-dog look of someone who found it hard to believe people could do nice things for him. </p>
<p>“Sure,” Danny shrugged. She was almost a teenager now and growing up too fast, but she loved her uncle Steve and he knew she wouldn’t object to spending time with them.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve said as he smiled again. “She alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. She was fine when I left.” </p>
<p>“Tell me about her.” </p>
<p>There was a pleading edge to his tone that he wasn’t quick enough to hide, a desperate urge to hear good things about healthy, happy kids to make up for the ones who wouldn’t get to live those moments.</p>
<p>Danny understood. </p>
<p>So many times after a particularly tough case, he had felt the need to see his daughter and be close to her. </p>
<p>He could do that. </p>
<p>He could talk about Grace for hours, especially if it made his best friend happy. </p>
<p>“Well, as you know she has a birthday coming up, so we went shopping the other day, and I bought her this dress. It’s, uh... brocade, which —in case you’re wondering— is a type of embroidered fabric, ivory and gold, with this beautiful floral ball gown. She looked like a princess.”</p>
<p>Steve listened intently, trying to picture what he was hearing in his head as if it was the scheme for an execution plan. It was comforting, the thought that Danny always made things better. It warmed his heart in ways he would never be able to express.</p>
<p>Danny went on, telling him all about her report card and enjoying the fond expression on his partner’s face. Then he reached for Steve’s left wrist, glancing at his watch. “You know, I think we should call her, make sure she’s okay.”</p>
<p>He dug out his cellphone and pulled his recent calls list, mouthing a ‘what’ with his most innocent look at Steve’s half-surprised, half-alarmed face. </p>
<p>“Hey, Monkey, how are you feeling? ... I know, I know you told me, I just wanted to make sure. ... I am so happy to hear that. Listen, you uh... you wanna say hi to uncle Steve? He had a bad day too, so I thought you could help him feel better. ... Yeah? Okay. Love you.” </p>
<p>With an encouraging nod and a warm smile, Danny handed him the phone.</p>
<p>Steve swallowed hard, taking it like he would if it was a grenade whose pin had been pulled and holding it to his ear. </p>
<p>“Hey, Gracie...”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Danny kept his promise, and when they arrived bright and early on Saturday morning, Steve surprised Grace with breakfast and a silver tiara similar to the one he’d found in Dobrian’s basement.<p>“For you,” he said shyly. “I hear you’ve got a beautiful, special dress and-- and that you looked like a princess so I thought... I thought you should have this, you know? That you should wear it if you like...” </p>
<p>Seeing the big, bad Navy SEAL holding a tiara and stammering in front of a twelve-year-old was priceless. It did things to Danny’s heart, filling it with so much love and gratitude as he looked at the two people he loved most in the world. </p>
<p>The fact that Grace had outgrew the ‘princess’ phase years ago didn’t even concern him, because he knew his daughter would appreciate the gift and react accordingly.</p>
<p>“It’s beautiful, uncle Steve, thank you,” she said fondly. “Do you want to help me put it on?”</p>
<p>Steve beamed, a ridiculously happy expression on his face as he led her to the half bathroom and gently put it in her hair while she looked in the mirror and smiled in approval.</p>
<p>Task completed, he rewarded her with the longest, warmest hug he’d probably ever given another human being. Grace held him just as tight, and if a look of confusion briefly crossed her face when it looked like he would never let go, it was quickly replaced by another smile and a few whispered words that made Steve, if possible, even more ecstatic. </p>
<p>“You okay?” Danny asked hours later as they sat in the Adirondack chairs by the beach and watched her swim.</p>
<p>“I am,” Steve replied, never taking his eyes off her. “I’m happy.”</p>
<p>It was a word Steve never used lightly. In fact, Danny could only count on one hand the times he’d heard him say it.</p>
<p>“Yeah? Me too, man. Me too.”</p>
<p>Right there, in that moment, they had everything they needed.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>THE END</p>
</div>
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